Chapter XV

It was late into the night, but Rowan found no sleep. It was not often that she was able to truly relax behind the walls of the Citadel. Many mixed thoughts would rush through her head while she sat awake with burning eyes.

Her quarters was built mostly of a wooden structure and the walls were hung with the hide of deer and bears to keep the space insulated and warm, and the bed she was sitting on was nothing more than a roughly sewn mat on the floor.

In her hand, Rowan was fiddling around with a small, carven necklace. It was one of the last things handed down to her by her late grandmother and she never let it out of her sight. Sometimes, just like tonight, when she was alone in her Citadel quarters, she would remove it from her neck just to grasp it in her hands. It helped her recall days long ago, before her home was taken; days when she would watch the first rays of the morning sun rise over the hills and cast its light upon the flowing rivers in the valley and her entire world was a place of peace and unity.

Rowan glanced down at the necklace in her hand. Carved into the circular, wooden pendant was a basic image of what appeared to be a man holding a staff in one hand, and in the other, he held an object that Rowan was never quite able to make out. Outlined around the image was a series of hexagonal shapes. Rowan never understood the significance of the pendant, if there was any at all. The only thing that mattered to her was that she kept it on her person at all times, for it was one of her last possessions since the world she knew was destroyed.

With these thoughts, Rowan leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes as she allowed her mind to wander back into the memories of her childhood.

Rowan often wondered if her memories were really as happy and tranquil as they were in her head. She remembered years before, when she was only nine-years-old. Her home was in a great valley surrounded by the mountain ranges of the Appalachians. Over the course of many generations her people had built a flourishing settlement in the valley. A homeland established and passed down from their ancestors; Ravenna, as they had named it.

Rowan remembered running through the trees at the edges of the valley on the warm, summer days. She zigzagged happily around the trees and bushes, stopping only to catch her breath. The sounds of the birds and small animals scurrying around was a tone of absolute bliss. Deeper into the woods Rowan would race until the foot of the mountains stopped her.

The air that surrounded her was cool and refreshing, thanks to the cluttered tree canopy. Rowan stopped suddenly and turned to look back the way she came. Quickly, she crouched down behind a patch of mountain laurel and held her breath as she peered through its branches, as though searching for something, but there was nothing to be seen nor a sound to be heard. Rowan scoped all around the woods, and then she leapt up and ran back into the trees.

She continued to glance back and forth hastily as she ran. At last, she halted and found herself standing before a tree with branches low enough for her to grab. Rowan jumped up and reached for the lowest branch, barely snatching it and pulling herself up. As she was just about to reach out for the next branch, something suddenly grabbed her by the ankle and began to pull her down. Rowan gasped in shock and released her hold on the branches. She fell out of the tree but was caught securely in the arms of her captor, who allowed himself to fall back onto the ground to ease Rowan’s own fall.

“Got you again!” a young man’s voice said from under her.

Rowan laughed. “You got lucky, Delmar!” she said, pulling herself back to her feet. “I almost got away this time.”

Her older brother, Delmar, was eighteen years of age at the time. On his feet, he stood over six foot in height and his hair slightly lighter than Rowan’s.. The way he towered over his younger sister was almost menacing, but he smiled down and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll never get past my tracking skills, Rowan,” he laughed. “Leastwise not till you’re about my age.”

Rowan grinned back up at him. “Well you’re a good teacher!” She looked back out through the woods toward the valley. “When is Father ever going to teach me to hunt?”

Delmar turned and gestured for Rowan to walk with him back out of the woods. “When you’re old enough to handle a bow,” he replied as they headed out. “I was a year older than you when he taught me. Just be patient.”

Rowan sighed to herself. “I know.” Everyone always knew Rowan wanted to be just like her brother. Delmar was held at much higher esteem than most others in Ravenna. Their father was the leader of their civilization; their Chief, as the title was referred to. Although Rowan’s home territory only spanned across a portion of the Adirondacks, their culture had existed and thrived here for over two hundred years. The birth of her people came about shortly before the spark of the American Revolution when a group of colonial farmers from the east, fearing an impending conflict with the British redcoats, aligned themselves with the remnants of a mysterious Native American tribe, known as the Seluitah, and disappeared into the hills of the Appalachians. They believed that the Colonial resistance would have undoubtedly been suppressed when the British reinforcements arrived on the shores of the new world. It was not until more than a decade after the end of the war that they were found and told of an unexpected Colonial victory. Yet despite their worst fears having been abated, the Colonial refugees stayed among the tribe in the Adirondacks and came to an accord with the newly formed American government to rule themselves independently and keep their interactions at a minimum, and it was not long until their civilization was built and all territories beyond their borders they simply referred to as the Outside.

The Dark Zone, however, was a name that did not arise until much later. In 1989, about six years before she was born, Rowan’s father had taken up the mantle of Chief following the passing of his father. According to Delmar, their father used to be a more progressive man than the former Chief, and sought to build bridges between them and the Outside.

It was around a year later that people from the Outside began to find and come to the valley. Among them was a family under the name Morenno, who quickly built a relationship with the Chief and more or less became leaders to the Outsiders. As the stories were told, there was peace and prosperity for a time between the Ravennites and the Outsiders, but for as long as Rowan could remember, tensions continued to grow, until her father declared that their borders were to be closed. He allowed those who were already here to remain, but nobody would be permitted to enter henceforth, and the ones who chose to leave shrouded her people’s home in a new name: the Dark Zone.

This request to close off their land was formally recognized by the Outside government on the condition that the people of Ravenna would be restricted from affiliation with the Outside, and they would have no legal obligations to Ravenna as a consequence.

Of course, having spent her entire life within the boundaries of her home, Rowan knew very little of the Outside. However, if she did, she would have known how incredibly misguided all the stories about them were. Her people were certainly no warriors. In fact, they were known to be peaceful and compassionate.

Rowan’s life was defined by peace and happiness. As she and Delmar exited the wooded boundaries of the valley, they walked alongside a stream that flowed rapidly downhill around the northern borders of Ravenna. It poured from the mountainside in several mouths and grew exponentially as it traveled into a deep, narrow ravine along the valley’s edge. It was believed by the people of Ravenna that over the course of several hundred years, the river eroded away at a prodigious clay deposit beneath the valley and formed the elongated canyon.

Nearly halfway down the length of the ravine a large oak tree stood defiant on the edge of the cliff. Rowan’s grandmother told her that it was the only tree along the riverside that was not uprooted and taken away by the river’s erosion. Instead, the water seemed to flow around the tree and formed its foundation into a tiny peninsula jutting out from the rest of the cliffside. As they came near it, Rowan ran over to the tree.

“Rowan!” Delmar called out to his reckless sister. He did not like her going out onto the narrow cliff, as dangerous as it was. Rowan approached the tree and placed her hand upon its worn bark. The tree did not have much meaning to most people, but it did to her. It was from the wood of this very tree that her late grandmother made the pendant she now wore around her neck. It was the last memory Rowan had of her.

Delmar came to her side and put his arm around her. Rowan simply looked on at the tree with emotion creeping up. She reached a shaky hand up and rested it against her chest where the pendant hung just beneath her top. Was there something she wanted to say? If there were any words, Rowan could not summon the strength to speak them. So all she could do was stare out toward the old tree in front of her that stood precariously on the eroded cliff.

Such a narrow point was not a place Delmar preferred to linger. “Come on, now,” he urged his sister, pulling back lightly on her shoulder.

Rowan only resisted. “Do you think she watches over us?” she spoke suddenly.

Delmar stopped at the sound of her words and he tried to find the right thing to say. “Of course she does, Rowan,” he replied quietly. “She made that necklet for you so that you would always know that she’s still here to protect you.”

The powerful words made Rowan choke up a little. “I wanna make something like it someday,” she responded, stepping forward to place a hand on the peeling bark of the tree. “Something just as special to someone, and from the same wood.”

Delmar smiled at his sister’s amiable devotion. “I believe you would.” Looking up toward one of the tree’s outstretched limbs, he replied, “I’ve always considered crafting a spear from that branch there.” He mused at the thought for a moment, however, he was still cringing as Rowan continued to move closer to the tree and the edge of the cliff. “Rowan!” he called out with more authority, and she turned her attention to her brother. “Please come. I don’t like you standing so near to the edge.” It seemed a little harsh, but Rowan quickly complied and followed Delmar away from the tree.